


Lost and Found

by MyrrhMyrrh



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: CecEarl, Cecearlos - Freeform, Earl would gladly die for Roger, Feels, Harlan Feels, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Injury Recovery, M/M, Sad, Sickfic, Uncle Carlos, Uncle Cecil, Whump, cecilos - Freeform, feral earl, grievous bodily harm, pens, spiderwolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 08:49:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrrhMyrrh/pseuds/MyrrhMyrrh
Summary: Earl Harlan has reappeared after being dragged away by mute children during the Eternal Scout Ceremony, but he's... changed. He's taken to living alone in the desert, feral - well, not quite alone. He has a son named Roger, and he would do anything to protect his child. But what happens when Earl is too badly injured to take care of him?





	

Roger was scared. 

His dad hadn’t come back after hunting two days ago, so yesterday he went out to look for him. He’d found him, badly beaten, near where he swore he had seen a pen while foraging. Earl had given him a tired, bloody smile and boofed softly to reassure him, but Roger couldn’t stop himself from crying. Especially when he heard spiderwolves coming… Horror at his father’s wounds turned to fear of dying and the little boy curled up beside Earl, who wrapped his arms around him protectively.

Roger was sure they were both going to die this time, but only two spiderwolves appeared. Probably a mated pair looking to start their own brood-pack. Earl snarled at them, valiantly fighting them off despite his injuries. Adrenaline surged through his body, quickening his reflexes and sending his muscles into overdrive. Endorphins numbed the pain from the beating he’d taken. Still, he was at a disadvantage, and was even more grievously wounded by the time they were dead. Roger helped him haul the carcasses back to their den (though Earl did a great deal of the work through adrenaline alone), yelping when his dad collapsed just outside it. It took him a full half hour to get Earl inside the cave, and he couldn’t stop bawling. Earl had managed to stop the bleeding with a trick he’d learned in the Scouts – one of the few blessed things he remembered these days – but he was in a lot of pain. Roger wished, right then, that his dad had been one of the fifty-three percent of Nightvalians born without pain-sensing nerves so he wouldn’t be suffering like this. 

The little boy decided he would have to be the grown-up now while his dad got better. He was small, and he was weak, but he used all his strength to shift the carcasses of the spiderwolves inside so his dad would have something to eat. He got some cactus from outside for water, bringing it to Earl. “You’re gonna be okay, Dad…”

Earl grunted softly, rough voice strained as his cub curled up beside him. Small thing made sad noises, small thing’s eyes leaked. He didn’t like it. He rubbed his forehead against Roger’s.

Roger wanted his Uncle Cecil. He wanted his Uncle Carlos. The desert was too dangerous, though, for him to go that far by himself. He helped Earl bandage the worst wounds when Earl felt up to it, whimpering when the former scoutmaster finally fainted.

 

Days passed and Earl didn’t get better. He was feverish, and Roger didn’t know what to do. He did everything he knew to – changed bandages, got food and water, cuddled his dad – but the wounds were infected. The fever kept getting worse. Roger knew he would keep getting worse until… until… He shook his head. He had to do something. Hiding the cave entrance with sticks and grass he found, he wandered in the direction of Night Vale, crying silently.

 

“Cecil, are you sure about this?” Carlos said, trailing behind the radio host.

“I want to at least bring him some supplies,” Cecil countered, hefting the box he held a little higher. “He won’t have to work so hard to get water this way.”

“It’s still dangerous, Cecil. What if he doesn’t find us? How far into the desert are you going to-” Carlos cut himself off as he saw a small redhead in the distance, and suddenly he was the one in front, sprinting toward the figure. “Roger?!”

Roger looked up, and upon recognizing the person running toward him, he sobbed, “Uncle Carlos!” He ran to meet the scientist, hopping into his arms and sobbing against his shoulder. Miraculously, the fauna of the desert had left him alone, and he’d found the very people he was looking for.

Cecil jogged up, the box’s contents rattling. “Roger? Are you out here all by yourself?”

“Uncle Cecil,” Roger sobbed, reaching out. Cecil put the box down and took the boy from Carlos, hugging him and swaying soothingly. 

“Where’s your dad?” Cecil asked, heart almost stopping when that triggered a fresh wave of wailing. Earl wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. He couldn’t…!

“He’s siiiiiiick,” Roger cried miserably, and Cecil could breathe again. Not well, but he was getting air.

“Can you take us to him?” Carlos asked, worried. “I’m a scientist, not a doctor, but maybe there’s something we can do.”

Roger nodded and sniffled. “Promise… Promise you’ll help him…”

“We promise,” Carlos and Cecil said in unison.

 

Cold.  
Hurt.  
Shivering, confused, stifle groan.  
Must stay quiet.  
Eyes open, look around. Alone.  
Panic.  
Where is cub? Where is cub?  
Crawl to den mouth.  
Whimper, sniff, look frantically for cub.  
Curl up, miserable, eyes leaking. Cub gone.  
Cub gone.  
Soft wail, claw at wounds, claw at hair.   
Panic, despair.

 

Cecil quickly clawed the brush away from the entrance of the den, rushing in before Carlos, who was carrying Roger, even reached it. He froze as his eyes adjusted and he heard a quiet keening from nearby. Rushing over, he discovered Earl laying on his side, bleeding. He stopped the flow of blood with a quick chant, then reached out to touch Earl. Earl snarled, teary eyes void of recognition.

“It’s me, Earl. It’s Cecil.” He determinedly reached out again, only to be bitten. “Ow!”

“Cecil!” Carlos called, ducking into the den with Roger. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Cecil lied, his hand pressed to his own wound. Earl had a hell of a bite.

“Dad,” Roger said, squirming to be let down and rushing over to Earl. “Dad, it’s Uncle Carlos and Uncle Cecil. It’s okay, we’re safe. They… they’re gonna help you…”

Earl’s eye’s widened, then closed as he wrapped around his cub. Cub safe. Cub there. He sniffed, checking Roger frantically as a terrible thought occurred to him. Cub hurt? No, cub safe. 

“Earl? Let me touch you,” Cecil said, taking advantage of Earl’s distraction and ignoring the snarl. Again. “Carlos? He’s burning up.”

“Let them help,” Roger begged his father, nuzzling him. “Please…”

Cecil tried to pick Earl up. They had to get him out of this cave, for starters. Somewhere clean, preferably somewhere cool and comfortable. Earl struggled weakly, grunting and whining, but gave up when Roger began petting his head. He allowed himself to be lifted, whimpering as it separated him from Roger, but the pain overwhelmed him quickly and he lost consciousness.

Carlos gathered Roger up and carried him alongside Cecil and Earl. Cecil was normally… well, a little reckless, but he was being incredibly careful and gentle with the wounded man. He walked in uncharacteristic silence, eyes focused more on Earl’s scarred, bruised, bloody face than where he was going. Carlos ended up taking the lead and unlocking their door to let Cecil in.

First things first – they had to clean Earl up. Cecil undressed the former scoutmaster, setting him tiredly in the bathtub with just enough water to serve the purpose. The radio host’s chest hurt, seeing the injuries, the scars. Earl’s left eye was damaged beyond any possibility of function, and terrible wounds from claws and teeth, new and old alike, marred his freckled skin from head to toe. Cecil ran a cloth gently, almost tenderly, over the damaged flesh, being especially careful of the inflamed gouges that radiated heat like little suns. Earl moaned in agony despite being mostly unconscious, and Cecil cursed under his breath. The water had turned red-brown with mud and blood, which was a bad sign in and of itself. Cecil drained it away and ran a fresh measure of bath water to avoid making things worse.  
After Earl’s body was mostly clean, it was time to deal with his hair. To a certain point, it was matted, which meant that Cecil had two choices: cut it or try to untangle it. Calling Carlos in to attend to the wounds, Cecil determinedly attempted the latter, relieved when he realized that Earl’s hair type made the venture easier. It took time, but Cecil succeeded. He made sure Earl’s hair was clean, too, before he stopped.

Carlos, meanwhile, had concocted a dose of very scientific medication intended to ease the pain and simultaneously fight the infection and fever. He injected it into Earl’s cephalic vein, then began taking care of the worst injuries.

 

Roger waited outside the bathroom, sitting with his knees against his chest. He was scared. He was very, very scared for his dad, but his uncles could do more than he could… Maybe his dad would be okay. He jumped up when Carlos opened the door, biting his lip as Cecil carried the bandaged and somewhat more coherent Earl out. Both Carlos and Cecil looked exhausted, but Earl was there with them and alive.

“Thank you,” Roger said softly.

Carlos gave the boy a small smile. “It’s no problem. We’re glad to help. We’re glad you and your dad are here.”

Cecil smiled at them, proceeding to carry Earl to the bedroom and dress him in pajamas that were slightly too big.

 

Strange pelts put on.  
Hurt, but hurt less than before. No new hurt.  
Strange one there, strange one bare teeth nicely.  
Bare teeth back.  
Strange one tired. Smell like dust.  
Make sounds, word sounds. Try to understand.

 

“I’m so sorry, Earl,” Cecil murmured.

Earl blinked at him. What was strange one sorry for?

“I should have… I… I led you on and I never even realized it.”

What was strange one saying? Confused.

“I… I’ll be here for you from now on, though, I promise,” Cecil said, more to himself than to Earl. “I’ll make it up to you. Maybe, when you’re better, we can still have something…”

Earl closed his eyes, smiling. He didn’t know why, but something about strange one’s voice was nice. Good, comforting.

Cecil sighed, looking at where he’d been bitten. Earl was so different… But then, no one came back from the desert unchanged.

 

A few minutes later, Roger and Carlos came in, clean. “Your turn,” Carlos said sleepily to Cecil, lifting Roger into bed.

Earl stirred, still feverish but better than he was before, and boofed softly, wrapping around his cub. This was strange place, didn’t feel safe. Needed to keep cub safe.

“It’s okay, dad. This can be home now, Uncle Carlos and Uncle Cecil said so.” Roger cuddled with Earl, smiling as his dad rubbed their foreheads together. Cecil wandered off to wash away the desert dust, and Carlos watched over father and son.

 

Morning. Earl opened his eyes, his first thought to check on his cub. On the other side of the cub, the beautiful one slept. Earl felt terrible, but managed to roll over to find out what was touching his back. He found himself face to face with the strange one, all three eyes closed and breathing evenly. Sleeping. Keeping a keen ear out for any change in breathing from any of the others, Earl sniffed the strange one. So familiar… 

Chest hurt, but not wound hurt. Ache.   
Reach out, touch face lightly. So lightly. Don’t want to wake strange one.  
Sniff.   
Good scent.   
Inch closer, sniff. Want more. Want… want strange one…  
Confused, don’t like chest ache.

He was mesmerized for a moment, until he felt his cub move against his back. Then he was rolling back over and wrapping around Roger again, smiling as the boy sleepily kissed his nose.

Cecil was the next to wake, disturbed by all the movement in the bed. He reached out and pet Earl’s hair, frowning when his old friend flinched. “It’s just me, Earl. Cecil. I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”

Carlos, sitting up to finish waking up, mumbled something along the lines of an agreement. “I’m gonna get breakfast… anybody want something?”

“Pancakes!” Roger said, worming his way out of Earl’s grasp – much to the dismay of the former scoutmaster. He grunted in fear, to which Roger responded, “It’s okay, dad. Uncle Carlos is just gonna get me food.” Earl seemed to understand, at least partly. He reluctantly stopped reaching for his cub. Roger trotted off with Carlos and Earl curled up, shivering.

“Earl?” Cecil said, gently touching Earl’s shoulder. The former scoutmaster looked at him in fear, confusion, and something else. He managed to sit up, pinning Cecil and sniffing him with tears in his eyes. “Earl? Wha- What are you doing…?”

Sniff. Want strange one, gentle bite at strange one lips.  
Stay, don’t want to stop, chest pain gone when lips against lips.  
Strange one squirms, but stays.  
Claw at pelt, want it off. Want strange one touch.

“Earl- Mmph. Earl, you’re hurt too badly-” Cecil protested, grabbing Earl’s wrists carefully to stop him.

Want. Need…   
Hurting more, wound pain, but doesn’t matter.  
More lips against lips, hard to breathe but need touch.

Cecil wrestled with Earl, trying to get him to lay down and rest, but Earl kept struggling. He couldn’t seem to overpower him, but that was nothing new. Earl had always been the stronger of the two. After several minutes of Cecil grabbing and Earl slipping out of Cecil’s grasp, of clumsy kissing and soft, gasped protests for the sake of Earl’s health, Earl weakened enough for Cecil to flip them and pin him. 

“Rest. Rest for now.” He kissed Earl’s forehead with slightly swollen lips, only to find that the medication had worn off and Earl was burning up again. No wonder he had been able to overpower the other… As Earl whimpered, Cecil stroked his hair and called for Carlos.

Carlos arrived with his cooking apron still on. “Something wrong?”

“He’s- He’s not doing well,” Cecil replied, distressed. He couldn’t help but blame himself, at least to some degree. 

Earl groaned softly, looking around for his cub. He had to protect his cub. Carlos called Roger in, asking him to calm Earl for them while he gave the man some more medication. The scientist bustled out to get the concoction and Roger crawled into his dad’s protective embrace. 

“Dad? Dad, it’s gonna be okay,” Roger said, cuddling. He cupped Earl’s face to distract him from Carlos and the needle that Carlos held. Earl grunted softly at Roger, not even noticing the prick of the needle among the rest of the pain. The sound of daily life in Night Vale was making him nervous, and he was almost delirious, but he held onto Roger, ready to die to protect the boy if need be.

 

After a few minutes, Earl was doing better. He curled around Roger, refusing to move, and only reached one arm out to bring food to his mouth when some was put in front of him. He drank water greedily when it was offered, but snarled when Cecil or Carlos looked like they might touch Roger. The former scoutmaster flinched every time a car passed, every time there was an unexpected sound. He was constantly on edge, expecting a large pack of strangers to corner him like they always did. He was afraid. Roger worked to comfort him, and when Cecil had to go do his show, Carlos watched over them. 

Some things were more important than science.

 

When Cecil got home, Carlos greeted him with a kiss. “He’s sleeping. I think I’ve come up with a compound that will help him heal faster, but I’ll need your help. He’s more comfortable with you.”

“Of course,” Cecil said quietly. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to go to the lab today.”

“I had a good enough setup here. Don’t worry, Cecil,” Carlos said, kissing the ash blonde again. “I can still do science at home, and helping Earl is a good cause.”

Cecil smiled a little, taking Carlos’ hand and leading him to the bedroom. He let go and crawled onto the bed, kicking his shoes off, settling next to the sleeping ginger. He kissed Earl’s cheek gently. “Hey, Early Bird, I’m home.”

Earl stirred and hummed. Something familiar… Familiar words. Warm feeling. He opened his eyes and saw the strange one.

Bare teeth, happy.  
Happier when strange one bare teeth back.

“How do you feel? You feel okay? Listen, Carlos has something to make you heal faster, so will you let him put it on those wounds?” 

Tilt head, blink. Words hard to think through.   
Pause, nod.   
Quiet now, not threatening. Maybe safe.   
Strange one, beautiful one safe?

Cecil stroked Earl’s hair, smiling a little wider when Earl leaned into the touch. “That’s right, Early, you’re gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

Earl was focused on Cecil until Carlos began rubbing a viscous substance into a wound. He yelped in surprise and pain, seeming ready to squirm away and bolt, and so Cecil improvised. He kissed Earl deeply, skillfully, and Earl stopped squirming. The sudden surrender even surprised Cecil, pricking at the guilt which churned in his stomach ever since he had seen what had become of Earl. The former scoutmaster was so vulnerable, and he felt terrible taking advantage of feelings that obviously still lingered, but this was for Earl’s own good. After a few moments, as Carlos moved on to another wound and dealt with it, Earl began to kiss back clumsily. Cecil wound his dexterous fingers into Earl’s hair, gasping in surprise as Earl’s arms trapped him there in a desperate embrace. Still, it was keeping Earl occupied, keeping his mind off the misery the application of the substance was sure to be causing. Cecil came up for air, resting his forehead, third eye closed, against Earl’s forehead. Both he and the redhead were out of breath.

Carlos finished with the final gash just as Earl began to get antsy again, whining and pawing at Cecil’s back. The scientist moved Earl’s arms, nudging Cecil aside, and lightly kissed Earl. “There. All done.”

Earl blushed brighter than he already was, humming quietly and staring at Carlos.

Beautiful one touch… good touch.  
Feel warm.

 

Over the next few days, Earl’s wounds healed rapidly. Carlos and Cecil took turns distracting him as the other applied the scientific substance, and before they knew it Earl was up and about without the need for any chemicals. Roger was over the moon to have his dad and both his uncles together in the same place, and he loved the food and attention he was lavished with. But, like all good things, it had to end sometime. This time, it was thanks to the Sheriff’s Secret Police. They burst through the door one morning about a week and a half after they had brought Earl home, shouting about this being a contraband raid. Someone had insinuated that Carlos used pens, and that was clearly banned.

Cecil got in the way, distracting them all with a speech about how Carlos, beautiful, perfect Carlos, would never commit such an offense. He was so busy keeping them occupied with his mesmerizing voice while Carlos disposed of any evidence that neither of them thought to keep an eye on Earl. In a panic, he grabbed Roger and slipped out a window, tearing his new, clean scoutmaster uniform as he sprinted toward the desert. 

 

Desert safe.  
No packs of black helmet strangers out there.  
Keep cub safe, keep cub away from black helmets…  
Run.  
Stumble, old pain.   
Look back at den of strange one and beautiful one. Look forward to own den.

Run.

**Author's Note:**

> Feral Earl belongs to videntefernandez.tumblr.com
> 
> This is the first fanfic I've posted on AO3, and I gotta admit I'm a little nervous. Nevertheless, I welcome feedback.There may or may not be a sequel, depending on if anyone wants to see one and if I can find the inspiration. I would apologize for the heartache, but I'm not actually sorry. Whump is one of my favorite pastimes and Feral Earl is one of my favorite characters.


End file.
